January, Sea Circle Calendar 1511. Bernia, the old port ruins.
Most of the charred wreckage of the former docks had been cleared away. The exposed seabed and twisted foundations stretched across the Silver Capital's coastline like a hideous scar. A cordon enclosed the most severely damaged central area. Only the unaffected half of the berths remained in strained operation, crane arms swinging back and forth beneath the gray sky as they moved the cargo that sustained the kingdom's economic lifeblood, with the cautious diligence of survivors of a catastrophe.
The morning mist had yet to fully disperse, and salty moisture drifted through the air.
Stanford, the head of the port authority, had long since arrived with several subordinates to wait at the planned site of the new docks. A little old man barely over 1.6 meters tall, he was as thin and dry as an old bamboo pole. He kept rubbing his bony hands together, occasionally rising onto his toes to scan the sky. The fine sweat beading on his forehead was at odds with the morning chill.
Humm-
A low, pleasing magnetic hum approached from afar. A pale-blue trail sliced through the thin mist and descended from the horizon.
Aaron Ball slowly descended, his black everyday clothes spotless, his silver hair stirring gently in the sea breeze. His azure eyes swept over the ruins before him and the busy berths in the distance. Rather than immediately looking at those waiting to greet him, he turned his gaze toward the broader expanse of the sea.
Extrasensory Vision silently unfolded.
His invisible magnetic-field perception spread along the coastline like precise radar waves, with him at its center. The underwater terrain, the structure of the rock strata, the distribution of submerged reefs, the speed of the currents, even the metal content of